Tracers 02 - Unspeakable

by Laura Griffin

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And next time you’re sick, take the day. Don’t come dragging ass into the middle of an operation and putting your teammates at risk.”

  He turned his back on her and climbed into the front of the nearest minivan. The side door stood open, and Elaina felt her cheeks flush as she noticed all the other agents sitting inside, looking pointedly away. They’d overheard all of it. She swallowed the bitterness in her throat and climbed in. It was packed with men and gear, but Cinco squeezed himself against the wall and made room for her. Before she’d even wedged her butt in next to him, they were moving.

  Shake it off. Concentrate. She dried her sweaty palms on her pants as the van careened around a corner and came to a halt in front of the suspect’s building. The door slid open, and everyone emptied into the street, attracting startled looks from nearby pedestrians. Elaina hustled to the side and watched the two teams set off—guns drawn—to fulfill their objective. Her chest constricted, and she knew it wasn’t just the vest. She should be with them, but once again she was on babysitting detail. The only difference this time was that Scarborough had been right to put her there.

  She walked over and waited at the bottom of the stairwell. Footsteps thudded above her, and she heard a sharp rap on the door. She held her breath, dreading the sound of gunshots. Instead, she heard mumbled voices, the squawk of a radio. Minutes later, the heavy clomp of boots as the dazed and confused suspect was led down the stairs between Loomis and Callahan. Noah Neely wore cargo shorts, sandals, and a pair of handcuffs, and he winced at the sunlight as Loomis led him to the waiting police unit.

  Anticlimactic.

  Like most of the other ops she’d had the privilege to be involved in.

  Elaina watched the car roll away. She loosened the Velcro straps on her vest and took a deep breath. Time to haul her buns upstairs and conduct some interviews.

  A girl loitering beside the building caught her eye. She wore a bikini top and cutoffs, and she couldn’t have been more than eighteen. She sucked on a cigarette and looked Elaina up and down.

  A breeze floated by, and the flowery fragrance of dryer sheets chased away the fish stink. Elaina glanced over the girl’s shoulder and saw a pair of machines filled with tumbling clothes.

  New plan.

  She walked up to her. “Hi.”

  The girl squinted at Elaina through a stream of smoke. Her expression said she’d been there, done that, and she was neither impressed nor intimidated by law enforcement.

  “You live here?” Elaina asked.

  She lifted a shoulder neutrally.

  “Do you know that guy who just left?”

  The girl smirked as she dropped the cigarette on the ground and crushed it under her cork-heeled sandal. “‘Left.’ That’s good. Looked to me like got arrested.”

  “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “Bound to happen sooner or later.” She crossed her arms over her flowered bikini top, and Elaina noticed the heart tattoo peeking out from her left triangle.

  “You know Noah?”

  “Everybody knows Noah. I never bought anything from him, though, so don’t get any ideas.”

  Elaina leaned a hand on the railing beside the stairs. “He get a lot of company?”

  She smiled slightly. “When he’s around.”

  “Have you ever seen him bring any women home?”

  She tipped her head to the side and looked at Elaina. “What happened to your face?”

  “I got mugged.”

  “Cool.”

  “Not really.”

  A buzzer sounded in the laundry room, and the girl glanced over her shoulder. She looked at Elaina again and seemed to decide something.

  “There’s this one girl. She’s here a lot. I don’t know her name or anything.”

  Elaina’s fingers itched to pull the notepad from her pocket, but she didn’t. “You remember what she looks like?”

  A shrug. “Like everybody.”

  “Like you?” Caucasian? Blond? Tan and skinny?

  “I don’t know. Brown hair, I think. She’s not that pretty. I think he mostly likes her for her Jeep.”

  “She drives a Jeep?”

  “A Rubicon. Blue. Great beach car. Noah’s a surfer, so . . .” She sighed. “I’ve got to go. Too bad about your face. Maybe you should use your gun next time.”

  “Thanks,” Elaina said. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  • • •

  Elaina elbowed her way through the crowd at Coconuts, doing her best not to get sandwiched between all the sweaty bodies and frothy cups of beer. She spotted Cinco at the bar, dressed in board shorts again and pretending to be a surfer.

  “She here yet?” Elaina asked, taking the empty stool beside him.

  “Haven’t seen her.”

  “I checked the volleyball courts. Nothing.”

  “She’ll show.” Cinco tipped back his beer, and Elaina tried not to cringe. “It’s her night off. And this is the place to be.”

  Elaina could see why. Bare skin. Bouncing breasts. Swimsuit-clad women leaping and diving into the sand after balls. Volleyball Night at Coconuts was a pickup scene to top all pickup scenes, and it beat the hell out of whatever else was happening on Wednesdays.

  Or so Elaina had heard. But then, she should probably develop another source for island info beside Brenda. The clerk at the inn didn’t seem like someone who would be clued into the rave scene that Elaina was pretty sure operated beneath the radar of most islanders, including Chief Breck.

  Elaina glanced around and sighed. She’d finally taken Troy’s advice and bared a little skin in order to blend in with the crowd. The other agents out in force tonight… not so much. Elaina had spotted all five of her colleagues from the Brownsville field office—all cleverly disguised in khaki shorts, Hawaiian shirts, and deck shoes—in less than two minutes.

  “Sweet Señorita, is it?”

  She glanced up into the warm brown eyes of the bartender. John? Joe?

  “No, thanks, Joel. Just a water, please.”

  He arched his eyebrows, and she realized her mistake. She needed a prop.

  “A virgin,” she amended. “And I mean straight fruit juice.” If she so much as sniffed a shot of rum or tequila or any other liquor tonight, she was done for.

  Cinco was watching her, seeing too much. He knew she’d been out with Troy last night, and it was quite possible he’d been given a detailed account. Elaina’s brain flashed to the hot tub, the bed, the box of condoms on Troy’s nightstand. She felt her cheeks warm.

  Did every cop on the island know? Cinco didn’t seem like a gossip, but Elaina was a realist. As the sole female member of the task force, she was bound to attract some salacious comments.

  Joel slid a glass in front of her, and it was filled with something thick and red.

  “My secret hangover cure.”

  She glanced up at him. “Do I look that bad?”

  He smiled. “I can spot a hangover a mile away.”

  She sniffed the glass. Something tomatoey. Elaina’s stomach clenched. Her head started to pound. She just wanted this day over. She took a tentative sip as she searched the faces again, looking for her target.

  “So’d you see the interview with Noah Neely?” Cinco asked.

  “No. Did you?”

  “Heard about it,” he said. “They say this kid’s a tomb.”

  “I’m not surprised. He’s been in the system before.”

  “Yeah, you can tell. Took him about three seconds to ask for a lawyer. We won’t get shit out of him now.”

  “You’re right.” Which was why they needed the girlfriend. Elaina scanned the female faces again. This time her attention got hung up on a very familiar man. He sat at the other end of the bar beside some blonde in a halter top. She was talking and smiling. He leaned closer to hear what she was saying, and Elaina felt a punch of jealousy so strong, it knocked the breath out of her.

  “You looking for someone?”


  She tore her gaze away from Troy and stared up at Joel.

  “Seems like you’re looking for someone tonight. I know a lot of people around here, so…”

  “Jamie Ingram,” Cinco put in, as Elaina seemed incapable of speech.

  Less than twenty-four hours. Less than one day. And suddenly the consequence of what she’d done crashed down on her like an anvil. She had no claim on him. Not now, not ever. She’d let her guard down, and all she had to show for it was a punishing hangover and a growing sense of shame. How could she have been so stupid?

  “She’s on one of the volleyball teams,” the bartender was telling Cinco. “They played earlier and won. They’ll be back in a while.”

  “Hey, there she is.”

  She forced herself to follow Cinco’s gaze across the pool, where a quartet of young women were walking. They wore red, athletically cut bikinis that showed off toned abs and muscular buttocks. One of the four was the owner of a blue Jeep Wrangler Rubicon.

  “Which one is she?” Elaina asked, because she had yet to meet anyone who looked at all like their driver’s license photo.

  “Girl closest to the pool,” Cinco said. “You want me to come with you?”

  “No. Thanks.” This woman worked at some bar where Cinco hung out, which meant he had a conflict of interest. Elaina would conduct the interview herself. She got up from her stool.

  And cut a glance at Troy, still immersed in titillating conversation. She ignored the sting and set off to salvage what was left of an exceedingly crappy day.

  CHAPTER 17

  Jamie Ingram?”

  She looked up from her group of friends. “Yeah?”

  “Could I talk to you a moment?”

  Four pairs of eyes stared up at her curiously. They were seated in the sand, stretching out before their next match.

  Jamie’s gaze moved from Elaina’s stitches to her friends, then back to Elaina again. “What about?” she asked.

  “It’s kind of private, if you don’t mind.”

  She shrugged and stood up, and Elaina led her to a pair of empty lounge chairs near the tiki torches. It wasn’t the quietest spot on the beach, but she wanted some light so she could read this girl’s facial expressions.

  Except she wasn’t a girl. She was twenty-three. Old enough to know better than to get involved with the wrong guy.

  They sat down, and Elaina could feel the woman checking her out. Elaina adjusted her bikini top. She wore it beneath an untucked, unbuttoned cotton blouse that concealed the Glock in the holster at the small of her back.

  Jamie’s gaze lingered on the frayed cuffs of the shorts Elaina had created just a few hours ago from a pair of jeans.

  “You’re a cop, aren’t you?” Jamie asked.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t know. Why else would you want to talk to me?”

  Elaina watched her eyes. She looked wary. Curious. But not nearly nervous enough for someone who had taken part in a murder.

  “My name’s Elaina McCord. I’m a special agent with the FBI.”

  Jamie pulled back slightly. “What’s going on?”

  “Are you aware that your boyfriend’s been taken in for questioning?”

  Her startled expression was Elaina’s answer. “What’d he do now?”

  “What do you think he did?”

  Her lips tightened at this, and Elaina knew she needed to watch her step here.

  Elaina leaned back on her palms and looked up and down the beach. “I used to play volleyball,” she said. “I was a hitter. You?”

  She waited a moment before answering. “I’m a setter mostly. But four-on-four, we do some of everything.”

  Elaina nodded. “And your boyfriend likes to surf?”

  Jamie looked at her cautiously. “Surf, skim board, wake board. He likes water sports.”

  “And he likes to party, too, I take it?”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “He gets down to Mexico a lot. You ever go with him?”

  “How would you know how much he goes to Mexico?”

  Elaina smiled gently and waited for her to grasp the gravity of the situation. She saw the fear bloom in Jamie’s eyes when she caught on.

  “Two arrests for possession,” Elaina said. “One for assault. You sure you want to invest your time with a guy like that?”

  Jamie glanced down and toyed with a bracelet on her wrist. It was like one of those Livestrong bracelets, only purple instead of yellow.

  “You like to hike, Jamie?”

  She glanced up.

  “I know Noah does. I know he was seen by two witnesses at the Laguna Madre National Wildlife Refuge last week. The day after a young woman went missing, as a matter of fact. He wasn’t alone.”

  Jamie swallowed. Elaina could feel the tension coming off of her.

  “He’s a memorable guy,” Elaina said. “I think it’s the hair. Personally, I remember him from the marina the day they brought in the remains of a butchered girl. He wasn’t alone then, either. You were with him.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Elaina looked at her. “You didn’t do anything right, though, did you?”

  She looked defiant now, and Elaina switched tactics. “How old are you, Jamie?”

  She hesitated a moment, probably wondering if it was a trick question. “Twenty-three.”

  “That’s two years older than Gina Calvert. You know who that is, don’t you?”

  The defiant look faded, and Elaina continued. “She played volleyball, just like you. Probably right on this beach. And then she disappeared. Do you know what happened to her?” Elaina paused and watched her face closely. “It was so horrible, they couldn’t even put it on the news, did you know that? Imagine how her parents must have felt, learning what happened to their little girl.”

  Jamie glanced over her shoulder now, clearly desperate to get back to her friends. “Look, I really need to—”

  “We can do this here or at my office,” Elaina said. “It’s your pick.”

  She looked down at her lap. Dance music thumped from the speakers nearby, making even the chairs vibrate. Elaina waited.

  “We were hiking,” she said finally.

  “Where?”

  “One of the trails near the alligator pond.”

  “What day?”

  She met Elaina’s gaze. Bit her lip. “June fifteenth. About one o’clock. We were hiking, okay? That was it. We didn’t put her there.” Jamie looked down again and fidgeted with her bracelet. The silence stretched out, and Elaina waited for her to fill it.

  “I should have called the police earlier. I know that.” Her voice wobbled now. “But we were scared, all right? You would be, too.”

  “You’re right, I would.”

  Jamie shook her head. “I don’t know who would… do something like that. To anyone. Even an animal. God, it was just…” She shuddered. “It was sick. But it wasn’t me. Or Noah.” She had a plea in her eyes now. “You have to believe me. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  “His record says otherwise.”

  A whistle sounded, and Jamie glanced backward. The volleyball match was starting, and her team was waving her over.

  “I need to go now.”

  Elaina watched her, trying to read her face. She looked scared and flustered, and Elaina believed her when she said she wasn’t involved. Whether her boyfriend was involved was another matter, but Elaina’s gut told her no. His age, for one thing. And his whole demeanor. Whoever masterminded these killings was sharp. Clever. Capable of gamesmanship and staying one step ahead of the police. Noah Neely wasn’t capable of passing a piss test.

  “I’m going to be in touch,” Elaina said now. “We need more information from you about what you saw that day.”

  Jamie nodded.

  “And if you have plans to leave town, I strongly suggest you change them.”

  She nodded again and stood up. “I understand. You’re wrong about Noah, though.” She fidgeted wit
h her bracelet again, and Elaina noticed the dragonfly on it. Her heart skipped.

  “What happened to that girl—it wasn’t him who did it,” Jamie said. “You’re looking for someone else.” She started to step away, and Elaina caught her wrist.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  Jamie frowned at her, and Elaina released her arm.

  “That design on your bracelet,” Elaina said. “What does it mean?”

  “Nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.” Another whistle sounded, and Jamie glanced over her shoulder.

  “But what—”

  “It’s just a bracelet,” she said, and dashed away.

  Troy watched Elaina return to her stool to debrief Cinco and some other members of the task force. Very low profile, all of them gathered around like that. Elaina had mastered the local attire, but the other agents may as well have been wearing neon signs. Troy shook his head with disgust as they conducted their little powwow. If their perp, whoever he was, happened to be here tonight, he no doubt would have aborted his plans by now or moved on to better hunting grounds.

  Elaina paid her tab. He watched her say her good-byes, knowing from the way she avoided even a glance in his direction that she knew good and well he was here. Maybe she’d sensed him. Troy could relate. He’d felt her presence the instant she’d set foot in the place in those frayed denim shorts that showed off her legs.

  He caught up to her on the beach.

  “Knocking off early?”

  She kept walking. “I’m going to bed.”

  He wisely swallowed all the crude comments that popped into his mouth. “How you feeling?” he asked instead.

  “Fine.”

  Yeah, right. She looked like someone fighting off a migraine and losing, and he would have bet money she hadn’t put any grease in her system to combat that hangover.

  She picked up her pace. He matched her stride without effort.

  “You know, you’re barking up the wrong tree with Jamie Ingram.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “I’ve known that girl since she was a kid, and she’s not involved in this.”

  “Oh, really?” she said. “And what about her boyfriend? Is he one of your playmates, too?”